Bella's Revenge
by Awestruck57
Summary: Bella lived for revenge. Could Edward give her more?
1. Chapter 1

The early morning April sun fell warm and soothing on Edward's back as he knelt at the edge of the field, eyeing with satisfaction the long, straight rows fanning out before him. He took pride in the symmetry of the pattern in the reddish brown Georgia soil. There were not that many people left in the world, this hemisphere anyway, who could plow a row that straight with a horse-drawn plow. Pulling off a stained baseball cap that had seen better days, he mopped a sweat drenched brow on the faded denim of his shirt sleeve, and decided there were probably not that many who would even want to try.

Raising his face to the friendly warmth, he closed his eyes and savored the rich, fertile aroma of the newly turned earth and the delicate fragrance of honeysuckle, coaxed out and spread like a blessing by the gentle sun. In just a few weeks that same sun would turn savage and he would be fighting to save his crops from its merciless intensity, but for now he could enjoy the peace of the moment and the sense of accomplishment that came from hard work, well done.

The feelings were new to him, although the work was not. He had grown up on a farm, but it had been a long hard road that brought him back to it. The past ten years had been very different from farm life, and far from peaceful. Right now the most drama around him was whether or not Elsie would calve on time, and that was just the way he wanted it.

Herman stomped his foot, shivered his flank and swished his tail at a fly who was out early to torment his shiny hide. Edward stood, with some difficulty, and patted the horse on his thickly muscled neck. "OK, fella, you've earned your oats this week, that's for sure. Let's go get breakfast." As he lead the huge beast back to the barn the limp in Edward's left leg was even more pronounced. The past few days of struggling along behind a creature with four good legs had taken their toll on his damaged muscles, and he winced as a particularly sharp twinge pierced his usually stoic expression.

Pausing, he leaned against the wall of flesh that was Herman for just a moment to take the weight off his bad leg. He would wait until the worst of the pain was gone before heading back. He did not want Jake to see how bad it hurt. He could hear the old coot now, growling about how, "What's needed around here is more common horse sense and less mule headed stubbornness!" Edward had known it would not be easy, that he would pay dearly with extra pain, but he had been determined to plow this field his way, trying to prove something, not to anyone else, just to himself. Next year though, he figured he'd use the tractor. Herman was getting on in years, after all.

The spasm soon passed and he was ready to continue toward the house and barn and his and Herman's respective breakfasts, when a low drone overhead caught his attention. He looked up, seeking the source of the sound; shading his eyes, he spotted a small plane. Aircraft were common enough that normally they went unnoticed, but this one was in trouble, he could tell by the sound of the engine.

He watched with growing unease as the tiny craft sank rapidly lower, its engine sputtering and finally dying. If he was not mistaken, it would go down in the woods near the back of Jake's property. The pilot was not bad, it was apparent that a steady hand held the controls, and he did not appear panicked by his predicament. Still, there was very little he could do besides keep the nose up and not come in at too steep an angle. Edward followed the course of the troubled craft until it disappeared behind the line of trees on the northern horizon. "Come on Herman," he said to his equine companion, "If they live, those folks are going to need some help."

Jake met him as he came into the barn yard. "Did you see where that plane went down?" he asked, with somewhat uncharacteristic urgency.

"Pretty close. You call the rescue services?"

Jake shook his grizzled head. "Can't. The phone's dead."

"Jesus, not again."

"Again. One of us will have to go."

"Damn. Well, Elsie may drop that calf anytime, and you know more 'bout birthin' babies than I do, so you'd better stay with her. I'll go."

"I figured. I've already started loading the truck. I'll finish with Herman, you take a look and see what else you think you might need."

"Right." Edward paused, running a shaky hand through tousled coppery locks. "God, I hate this. I've seen enough mangled bodies, I don't want to see anymore."

Jake laid a steadying hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I know son. Are you sure you can do this? I can go and get back before Elsie does anything."

"No, I can handle it." He took a deep breath, determination clenching his chiseled jaw. He looked up at his friend, his deep green eyes troubled. "You know, one of us needs a cell phone."

Jake grunted. "Ain't gonna be me!"

Ten minutes later Edward was on his way, leaving a cloud of gray dust in his wake as he barreled down the dirt road that marked the eastern boarder of his and Jake's jointly owned property. He followed it until it disappeared into the back pasture, and then cut across, heading North West toward where he thought the plane might have entered the trees. Twenty minutes later he found it.

The pilot was better than not bad; he had almost managed to set it down in the field. Ten more feet was all he needed, but he just did not have it. He hit the fence and tore it down, dragging wire and post with it as it plunged into the woods bordering the pasture.

Edward climbed out of his faded old red Chevy pickup and approached the battered craft, sniffing carefully for fumes that would threaten an imminent explosion. He was not hopeful of finding anyone alive as he circled around, picking his way over the downed fence and twisted wreckage. The side of the cock pit had been ripped open, and a tangled mass of mahogany curls poured from the hole like blood from a wound.

Hesitantly, dreading what he would find, he knelt and gently pushed the hair out of his way so the face of its owner was visible. It was the most beautiful face he had ever seen, even with an ugly purple bruise on the forehead and a laceration across one side. The damage only served to point up the perfection it had marred. Her shockingly pale skin was dusted across her perfect, delicately up-tilted nose with a light sprinkling of golden brown freckles, the only color in her heart shaped face. Long, dark lashes shadowed softly curved white cheeks

He was about to let the hair fall back into place when her eyelids fluttered and opened, pinning him with her wide, dark gaze. She stared intently into his eyes for an endless moment, and then sighed. "It's OK, little guy," she murmured, "we can trust him, he has good eyes." She closed her own, and he thought she had lapsed back into unconsciousness, when, with a strength and suddenness that startled him, she clutched the hand with which he held back her hair, and focused once more the intensity of her clear dark gaze on his.

"What ever you do, don't let anybody know I'm here, or that a plane crashed anywhere near. If you do, I promise you, we're dead, all three of us! Please..." Then her eyes lost their focus and closed, her hand fell and her head drooped. The warning had used up the last of her strength.

Her face went so still and white that the Edward's stomach clenched in a knot of fear. He gently touched her neck and was rewarded with a butterfly flutter of life under her skin. The knot relaxed slightly, and he tried to see beyond her into the plane, assuming from her reference to the "three of them" that someone else, the pilot perhaps, was with her. A cursory glance told him she was alone, perhaps she was delirious from the blow to her head. With a start he realized that she had been flying the plane.

By the time he had extricated her from the wreckage and installed her as comfortably as possible in the bed of the truck his leg was aching fiercely, and his face was nearly as white as hers. He had grave misgivings about moving her, but he could not leave her in the plane; it might be hours before a professional could come to her aid.

Two things became immediately apparent as soon as he got her out where he could get a good look at her. One was that her arm was broken. The other was who she had been talking to when she said, "Little guy". She was very pregnant.


	2. Chapter 2

A dream of falling jerked her awake, leaving her heart pounding as she clutched the bed covers with the one hand that was free to move. It dawned on her after a few seconds that the pounding was not only her heart. It seemed that her whole body pulsed with pain, especially her head. She groaned and tried to raise her hand to her head only to find she could not move her right arm, and her left seemed too heavy to lift more than an inch or two.

It took every ounce of energy she could muster, but she raised it to lay across her swollen middle. He was still there, she had not lost him. Or, had she? She held very still, praying for some sign of life. What seemed like an interminable amount of time passed before her breath caught on a sob of relief as she felt a tiny thump against her ribs.

She forced her eyes open a bit more-but it hurt too much and she gave up and closed them against the painful light. A masculine voice she did not recognize spoke softly, assuring her that everything was all right, and something cool and refreshing touched her forehead. A straw was pressed against her lips and she was encouraged to drink, after which she sank, gratefully, back into oblivion.

The next time she woke the pounding had lessened and she was able to open her eyes, cautiously, and take in her surroundings. The bed upon which she lay was near a window with frilly, white and pink print curtains that were stirred by a light, fresh breeze that brought with it scents she could not identify, but which were not at all unpleasant. She took a deep breath and tried to remember where she was as she looked around at the unfamiliar room. It was bright and sunny with fresh, white walls and warm wooden furniture that looked hand-crafted. It was neat and clean, but very plain, there were no personal touches, nothing about it to suggest an occupant. It was far removed from the opulent surroundings she had become used to while living with James.

She looked down at her arm and realized why she had been unable to move it. It was in a splint made of two small, flat pieces of wood and some tape and bandages. The whole thing was then in a sling that held it up tight against her body. Her face and head still throbbed, although with much less intensity, and she explored the bandaged right side with her left hand, which she found was undamaged. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble for her.

A vague memory of brilliant green eyes blurred together with a grizzled old man and a plane going down, and "Oh my God!" she gasped as memory of why she was here suddenly returned. "Hello?" she called, as loudly as she could without tearing the top of her head off.

A few moments later the door opened and the older man she remembered came in, smiling, carrying a tray covered by a clean white cloth. She eyed him suspiciously as he crossed the room to stand near the bed, and she unconsciously drew away as he got too close. Sensing her withdrawal he stopped, regarding her kindly.

He had seen a good many years, judging by the lines visible through a somewhat sparse and scruffy, salt and pepper beard, and his shaggy hair, which had obviously been night black, but was now mostly white and steel gray. A shock fell boyishly over his forehead belying the wrinkles. His dark russet skin revealed Native American ancestry, browned even more by sun and wind and time, grooved but not embittered. He was tall and wide, and although his shoulders were stooped slightly, he moved with a lively step and his dark eyes were bright and kind. He spoke with a slight, charming accent that she couldn't quite place.

"Hello there." he said. "Glad to see you're awake. You sure look a whole heap better than you did. How are you feeling?"

She studied him for a moment longer before she smiled back with the half of her face that could. "Hi. I'm feeling much better, I think. How long have I been here?"

"Let's see now, Edward brought you in yesterday morning, and it's late afternoon, so almost two days." He came nearer to the bed and examined her more closely. "I think you're ready to eat a bite. Am I right?"

"As a matter of fact I am a little hungry." she told him, somewhat surprised at her appetite. She could not remember the last time food appealed to her. Maybe it was all the fresh air she had been breathing.

He sat the tray on the dresser and assisted her in sitting up, propping the pillows behind her. He then placed the tray across her knees and removed the cloth to reveal a steaming, fragrant bowl of soup, warm, soft rolls and a fruit salad. "This looks wonderful!" she told him. "I can't begin to thank you enough, mister...?"

"No need for mister, just call me Jake. Jake Black. I hope you enjoy that soup, it's my specialty. Eat up now, that little person you're carrying around in there needs something to grow on. I'll be right back with a nice glass of milk."

"Thanks Jake," she said, and tucked into the food as best she could with her left hand. He was back in few moments with a tall, cold glass of milk.

"There you go, there's something that'll make that little fella's bones good and strong. Doesn't look like you've been getting enough to eat for quite a while, you need to make up for lost time."

"No," she told him between bites, "I haven't been eating too well I guess. There were things going on that..well I just didn't have much appetite." She frowned, stretching the wound on her cheek. She put the spoon down and reached up to run her fingertips over the bandage. She wondered if it would leave a scar; she hoped it would.

"Well, you can tell us as much as you want to, later, when you feel stronger."

"I appreciate that. There is one thing though, the other man, what was his name?"

"That would be Edward. He got you out of the plane and brought you here."

"Did I tell him anything?"

"Not that I know of, except that we shouldn't let anyone know you were here."

"And," she was almost afraid to ask, "did you?"

"No ma'am. We took you at your word and didn't even call a doctor, although I sure wanted to. You were mighty lucky you didn't lose that baby with all the bangin' around you took when that plane went down. Edward said you did a darn good job of bringin' it in. I took care of your arm and bandaged your face. He went right back out to make sure no one could see the plane. You're safe for the time being."

Sudden tears stung her eyes and she bowed her head letting her wavy mahogany locks hide them from him. It had been so long since she had felt any measure of safety. He patted her shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "Don't you worry now. Eat and then get some rest. Is there anything else you need?"

She wiped her eyes and smiled her gratitude at him. "Maybe somewhere to freshen up a bit? I'll need a bathroom, very soon." She wondered about that, suddenly realizing she had been unconscious for most of two days. Who had done what while she slept? She decided it didn't matter, she was only grateful to who ever had cared for her.

"It's down the hall, first door on the left," He informed her. "You'll need some help gettin' there, I'm sure you're gonna be a little unsteady on your feet at first, so you just let me know when, OK?

"Thanks, so much. I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am."

"Sure. Oh, by the way, do you have a name I can call you besides Ma'am? I feel a little silly callin' you Ma'am."

She hesitated for a moment. "Call me Marie," she told him, finally. "The less you know about me the better it will be for you."

"That's fine, that's fine." He assured her. "Like I said before, you don't have to tell me anything. I'll leave you alone now to eat in peace. Call if you need me."

She couldn't speak over the lump in her throat, so she nodded and he left. Since she had gotten pregnant she had lost some of the hard shell and cool cynicism that she had cultivated so carefully over the years, and she found herself teary eyed far too often. It was really disgusting. He did seem like an awfully sweet old man though. She had to get away from here before they found her, because when they did, anyone around was bound to be embroiled in the same terror and fear she had lived with for three years.

Pushing the tray down her legs, she curled her arm protectively over her swollen middle. She couldn't let any harm come to herself either, because this innocent life was depending on her. Dear God, sometimes it felt like another day was just too great a burden to bear. Then the baby would kick, or turn, and she would know that she had to go on, that in a world where a miracle like this could take place, there was hope.

She had never thought about having kids, it never occurred to her that she might want to, and when it happened she was in a state of shock at first. Then, gradually, the enormity of it dawned on her, and the first time the baby moved she was stunned by the emotions that flooded her. It was as though there was a whole other person that she had never known hiding inside her, this woman who wanted to nurture and protect, this individual who was very different from the tough, look-out-for-number-one person she had always thought herself to be.

She was so tired though, so weary to depths of her soul tired, that sometimes she was not sure she would be able to see her task through to its completion. Yet, she had to.

She had to give birth to this baby, see that it was properly cared for, and then she had to kill James. What happened to her after that, well, it didn't really matter to her at this point.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She had looked at the situation from every angle, laying awake nights and turning it over in her head, running around in her thoughts, caught in a tangled maze of circumstances, and it all finally came down to one solution. He had to die. He would kill her, without compunction, the first chance he got. The fact that she was carrying his child would not even slow him down. That was why she had to wait until she gave birth to face him, her fear for the baby would add to her vulnerability.

Although she had never killed before, James had, many times, and he would kill again, probably before she got to him. There was no guilt associated with the decision, no moral dilemma for her. It was simply a matter of logistics and timing.

She did not want to think about it now, she did not want to poison the new life growing inside her, she did not want to taint it with anything from her own past. This child would have a chance at life, no matter what the cost to her. She was again startled at the intensity of her feelings. She had never felt this strongly for anyone in her life. She had always supposed there was something wrong with her, something left out, because nothing really touched her, not since she was ten years old. Until now. Now, there was something in her life worth living, or dying, for.

"So Jake, where am I, exactly?" she asked, as he helped her back to the bedroom a while later.

"Well, you're out in what some people would call the boonies and that's for sure. We're in Georgia, near a little town called Jackson. 'Bout its only claim to fame is that all the death row prisoners end up here. This is where the great state of Georgia fries.. er.., carries out its executions."

"Oh, that's lovely. So if I meet up with any escapees, chances are they will be people with absolutely nothing to lose by killing me?"

"I guess that's true, but the security around there is mighty tight. There hasn't been an escape in years. Heck, I'd say you have more to worry about from tornadoes and such than escaped prisoners."

"How reassuring. And I thought living in Miami was scary." she grinned at him, and then changed the subject. "Is there a Mrs. Jake?" she asked, fingering the soft cotton gown that she was wearing. "I assume this doesn't belong to you, or the other fellow."

"There used to be. That was my Leah's. She died a little more than two years ago, after bein' sick for several months. That's how come I learned to cook, takin' care of her. We'd been married for 45 years. I always figured that I would be the one to go first, but she got cancer, and, well, you probably know the story. She made me promise before she died that I wouldn't mope around and be miserable after she was gone-she couldn't stand people who moped around and whined and felt sorry for themselves-and I've tried like the dickens, but that was the hardest promise I've ever made. I've kept everything just like she left it, and wherever she is she's probably mad at me for it, but having her things around is a comfort to me."

"I'm so sorry, Jake. I really appreciate you letting me borrow the gown."

"Oh I'm just doin' with 'em what she would have."

"She sounds like a wonderful woman."

"She was the best." He nodded and swallowed. After a short pause neither of them knew how to fill, he changed the subject. "The clothes you had on didn't come through the crash too well, but Edward got your bag out of the plane so you'll have your own things to wear soon as you feel like dressing. It's in the closet there. I wouldn't recommend you try that too soon though."

"I think you're right. I feel pretty weak, and my arm hurts like hell. I should probably just lay down for a while." He helped her lie back and made her as comfortable as her injuries would allow, and then seated himself carefully at the foot of the bed, frowning slightly as he observed the pallor of her small face.

"I sure wish you'd let me call a doctor. I don't really know for sure how bad you were hurt, you know."

"It doesn't matter how bad I'm hurt. If anyone finds out I'm here I'm as good as dead. And so are you. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. Besides, I feel alright, just tired."

"Well, OK, I guess." he said, giving in reluctantly. "Doc Baker wouldn't tell anybody you were here though. Say, how far along are you with that baby anyway? You're gonna need a doctor for that you know!"

"I'm early in my eighth month. The baby is due in about three weeks." She laughed slightly at his expression. "Don't worry, I won't be here Jake. I'll be long gone before it comes. Couldn't you deliver it though, if it came early?" she asked, teasing him just a little.

"Well now, I've delivered my share, plus a few, of calves and pigs and horses, even delivered a goat once, but I never delivered a human. I reckon, if push came to shove," -Bella laughed again at his unintentional play on words, "that I could handle things all right."

"That's good to know. Were you there for the birth of your own children?"

"My Leah and I were never blessed with any younguns."

"Oh, I thought that the other guy, Edward, was that his name? I thought he was your son."

"No, he's a friend and business partner. He ran into some trouble a while back, took some hard knocks, and he's been stayin' with me while he heals. You know," he said reflectively, "a farm is a good place to do that. Heal, I mean. I've sure enjoy havin' him here. Well, you rest now and I'll get my chores taken care of. When you're ready let me know and we'll get you out of this room. I imagine you are gettin' pretty tired of lookin' at the same four walls by now."

"You might be surprised. I could probably stay here for quite a while and not get tired of it. I haven't had this much peace in a long time."

"Like I said, a farm is good place to heal, from all kinds of hurts. It sure has been good to me." He slapped his knees and stood. "I've flapped my gums long enough. Let me get to work. I'll check in with you soon as I get back in."

"Thanks Jake. I'll be fine." He left and she settled down into the soft bed, trying to find a comfortable position for her arm, which was throbbing hard and was mostly the reason for her white face. Jake had supplied pillows upon which to elevate it, relieving some of the pressure, but a few of James' drugs would be welcome right now.

No, that wasn't true, she didn't really want any part of that life. She would rather bear twice the pain than touch anything he had to offer. God, that all seemed so far away. She shuddered slightly in disgust and tried to think of something else. She was curious about Jake's friend. She remembered him only a little, and she had not seen him since she awoke, but she had a vague impression of green eyes and broad shoulders. She wondered, as she drifted off to sleep, what sort of hard knocks he had sustained.

"How's that little heifer doin'?" Jake asked Edward as he entered the barn.

Edward draped his arms over the rail of the large stall containing Elsie and her new arrival, born during the night. "She couldn't be better. See for yourself." He indicated the pretty little white faced calf nursing an obviously contented mama who was munching a mouthful of grain. "I was getting ready to turn them both back out to pasture. How's your guest?" he asked with a nod of his head toward the house.

"She's fine too, I reckon." He shook his head. "Boy she sure is a stubborn one. She's in a lot of pain, but she won't let me call the doctor. I wonder what kind of trouble she's in."

"The kind we want to stay out of, that's what kind. The sooner she is on her way the better'," Edward stated emphatically, his expression going hard as he opened the gate and went in to get Elsie. He led her out, and the calf, interrupted in its favorite activity, protested loudly before trotting along behind on long, spindly legs. Jake followed, taking note of the fact that his friend's limp was more pronounced this morning. He stopped himself from asking about it, knowing he would only meet with a stony stare. He tried to think of some errand that would seem plausible and would keep the younger man off his feet for a while.

"I need a few things from town, you want to go get them, or stay here and look after Marie?" he asked casually. Edward gave him a piercing look which he met unflinchingly, since he really did need some things from town.

"I'll go. Make a list and I'll leave as soon as Elsie's back in the herd."

"The list is already made up. I'll leave it for you as soon as I find out if there's anything she needs to add to it." Edward mumbled something and looked even more surly as he limped on up the path to the pasture. Jake grinned and shook his head. That boy was sure a grump today.

He knocked softly on the door of the guest room, and when he received no reply, opened it to peek inside. She was sound asleep. Rather than wake her, he added what he thought she might need to the list and put it and some money where Edward could find it on the small table beside the front door, before heading back out to finish his day's chores.

Edward had to stop for gas. He pulled into the small filling station and quick stop food mart on the corner as he entered town and pumped a full tank. He was heading inside to pay and buy himself a soda, when he notice the newspaper stand.

The front page of the Atlanta Journal reached out and slapped him to a skidding stop. It had a picture of a beautiful woman. The same woman that was at this very minute asleep in his home. The headline read, "FBI STEPS UP SEARCH FOR MISSING WITNESS IN MURDER INVESTIGATION".

As if drawn by a magnet he deposited the coins in the slot and withdrew the thick bundle. He stared at the grainy black and white picture of their house guest. Her hair was a little shorter, and her cheeks looked fuller, but it was definitely her. Someone clapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump.

"Hey buddy, you gone deaf?" a familiar voice asked, piercing his concentration and bringing him back to his whereabouts.

"Oh hey, Fred, how's it goin'?" he greeted his friend and neighbor Fred Hall, tucking the newspaper under his arm before shaking the hand held out to him. Fred was a big man, red faced and jovial. He wore the overalls still customary around a small southern town, and had a mouthful of chewing tobacco. He regarded Edward strangely for a moment.

Edward was thinking that no matter how long he and Jake lived here, and how accepted they felt for the most part, there was still an aura of the 'outsider' that might never go away. Fred confirmed it with his next comment.

"You know, I don't believe I've ever seen you read the newspaper before. I kinda thought it must be against your religion or something." he observed, spitting a brown stream into the dusty gravel as he held the door open and waited for Edward to enter.

"I was just glancing through it." Edward told him offhandedly. "I do once a year or so, you know, just to keep up, but there's hardly ever anything in it that isn't either depressing, or makes me so mad I can't see straight."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." They both paid for their gas, and Fred followed him out.

"We're having a square dance tonight Edward, why don't you come?" He held up his hand to forestall the negative he knew was coming. "I know, I know, you don't dance, but there's plenty of girls in this town who would love to keep you company while you watched. My sister Jessica, for one."

"I'll think about it Fred, thanks." They talked a few more moments, idle conversation about weather and crops, seed and fertilizer. Edward was having trouble concentrating on such matters, though usually they were of considerable interest to him.

"Well, Fred, I've got some errands to run for Jake." he said finally. "I guess I better get them taken care of. It's nice talking to you. Maybe I'll see you this evening." They both knew he wouldn't. He had been a better than average dancer at one time; he was not ready yet to face his clumsiness on the dance floor now.

He sat in the truck for a moment staring at the picture. She was so beautiful, and she looked so sweet and innocent. He wondered how long ago this had been taken. What would make someone like her get mixed up with someone like James Fontana? He sighed and started the pickup. Greed, probably, like everyone else.

When he walked in the house he found Jake sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes. He threw the paper down in front of him, blowing a puff of skins onto the floor.

"What's this?" Jake asked, putting down the potato and picking up the paper. He held it at arms length and peered this way and that at it before remembering to pull his glasses out of his pocket and slip them on. He glanced at Edward over the top of them. "Must be something big to make you buy a newspaper." he commented before turning his attention to the front page.

"Well I'll be damned. That's Marie." Scanning the article quickly, he got most of the pertinent details. James Fontana, suspected of being a drug dealer, and of having all kinds of other unsavory habits, was charged with torturing and murdering an undercover FBI agent. Isabella Swan was the one person still living who was thought to have seen the killing take place, and she had disappeared. The article made no mention of her pregnancy.

Jake lowered the paper and removed his glasses to chew thoughtfully on one temple. Edward stood waiting, hands on hips, pretty sure he knew what the old man's reaction would be. "You know what this means don't you?" Jake asked finally, tapping the paper with his glasses.

"I know exactly what it means," Edward said, "but I don't think you do."

"It means she can't leave. No matter where she goes she'll be recognized. She's got to stay here where she'll be safe."

"What in God's name would make you want to protect somebody that was mixed up with James Fontana? Do you have any idea who he is?"

"No I don't, but I know enough about this girl to know that if my Leah were here, she'd do the same thing I'm doin'. There are some people who don't deserve to be helped, I'll grant you, but she isn't one, and if you don't help somebody that deserves it you aren't worth the dirt you're made out of. I know you think I'm a sentimental old fool, but that's how it is. This will be your house one of these days when I'm gone, but as long as I'm here, nobody will be turned away from my house who needs help as bad as she does."

Edward couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had just been told to like it, lump it, or leave, over a tramp, a gangsters woman, by his best friend. He felt betrayed, cut to the quick. Jake went back to peeling potatoes indicating his mind was made up, nothing Edward could say would change it. He turned and walked out.

She woke during the night, confused momentarily as to where she was. It was so dark she literally could not see her hand in front of her face. She climbed out of bed and made her way carefully to the window, feeling her way with her outstretched hand. A cool breeze wafting in brought with it a nightbird's song, and she could hear crickets and frogs in the distance harmonizing in a rythmic chorus. The air was heavy with the moisture of an impending storm, and the sky was totally dark. She had never experienced such complete darkness; it seemed almost solid, as though she could put out her hand and stroke it like black velvet.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated everything like a strobe light, shocking her eyes with its brilliance. It took a few seconds to assimilate what she had seen. There was the barn, and the corral, and someone was standing out there, leaning against the rail. She got the impression of long legs and broad shoulders. Another flash revealed the individual had turned and was limping toward the house. His face was haggard in the brief harsh glare. She backed away from the window, suddenly feeling she had spied on a private moment.

Back in bed, she lay awake and listened to the gathering storm. The wind, more than a breeze now, was coming in the window in grown up gusts. Distant thunder rumbled and lightning continued, becoming more frequent. She heard the front door open and shut, and then booted footsteps on the hardwood floor of the hall. Another door opened, and then it grew quiet once more. She hoped the storm would pass quickly. She was ashamed of how badly storms frightened her, but she had been caught in a hurricane once in Florida when she was young and had been terrified by them ever since.

She drifted off to sleep again, only to be jolted awake by a tremendous crash. She screamed and sought to bury her head under the pillow, but it was difficult with only one good arm. A blinding flash and another, even louder explosion of sound crashed around her and she screamed again, this time muffling it into the pillow. She cursed her reaction and her inability to control it as she lay, shaking and miserable under the storm's onslaught.

A thin pencil of yellow light fell across her bed as the door opened and a tall figure slipped in silently. "Storm got you shook up?" a deep, musical voice asked.

She pulled the pillow from around her ears and hugged it to her tightly.

"Y-y-yes, I'm afraid s-s-so," she said, her teeth chattering slightly. His shadow moved across the room to the window where heavy drops of rain were now blowing in, splattering the floor and bed. He closed it and shut out much of the storm's fury with it.

"I kind of enjoy them myself," he said, remaining for a moment to gaze out into the darkness. His silhouette was illuminated by another flash as he turned to her. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, I just have this thing about storms. They are the only thing I can think of that will make me act like an hysterical female. I really am sorry I woke you." She was still shaking, and she jumped as another boom of thunder rattled the window.

"I wasn't asleep. I was doing a little reading."

"Oh, that's good. That you weren't asleep, I mean. I hope I didn't disturb Jake. I like to read too. I don't get a chance to do nearly as much as I would like, but every chance I get I pick something up." Realizing she was starting to babble, she stopped herself and asked instead, "What are you reading?" She expected it to be stock reports, or fertilizer comparisons or something of that nature. His reply took her by surprise.

"'Letters From Earth."

"Mark Twain. Wow, you're into some heavy duty satire there."

"It suits my mood of late." he told her, his manner cool as he crossed to the door. He didn't want to be pleasantly surprised at her recognition of his reading material, it didn't fit at all with the perception he was trying to maintain.

"Think you'll be OK?" he asked, and she felt cut off, suddenly, as though she wanted more of his company and he was rejecting her. She couldn't remember the last time she had wanted someone's presence and she was confused by the feeling. She wanted to thank him for rescuing her, wanted him to sit and talk for a while, but he obviously did not like her for some reason, and a spark of anger flared, burning out the last trace of her fear of the storm.

"I'm fine," she repeated, meaning it this time, her voice as cool as his.

"Goodnight then," he said, and closed the door, leaving the room even darker than before.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny, and the blue Georgia sky seemed much too innocent and benign to even know how to throw bolts of lightning and rain by the bucketful down on the helpless earth below. Only the still muddy ground of the corral gave evidence of the turbulent events of the night, and that was rapidly drying up in the spring sunshine.

She looked out at the glistening green trees and fields, and raising the window, took deep breaths of the cool fresh morning air. A grin suddenly broke across her face as she watched a pair of squirrels chasing one another through the branches of a spreading oak near the house. The smile faded as other images imposed themselves on her mind, violent images that flickered and changed as she tried to block them. She turned quickly from the window seeking distraction and was relieved by a knock on the door. "Come in."

"Faith & begorra," said Jake as he came in, feigning an Irish brogue. "If it don't do me old eye good ta see ye standin there, lookin' as pretty as the mornin' itself!"

She laughed at his playful flattery. "What did you say your name was? You sound like somebody your mama knew has kissed the blarney stone!"

"Well now, there wasn't a bit of blarney in that. You're lookin' dandy this mornin'. You feel like joinin' me for breakfast?"

"I can't begin to tell you how good that sounds. I'll wash and dress and be right out."

"Need any help?"

"I'll be fine, thanks."

"OK. Just come on when you're ready."

It was more difficult than she had thought it would be to wash and dress with one arm, but she accomplished it finally, and found her way down the hall, following the smell of coffee and bacon into the large sunny kitchen. She found Jake standing at the stove tending something that sizzled and popped.

"That coffee sure smells good, and so does what ever that is you're cooking!" she told him, sniffing with pleasure.

"Cups are up there, help yourself," he directed, indicating the cupboard with the spatula he held.

"Maybe just one small one. Can I pour you some, too?"

"Yeah, I'll have another. Mine's that beat up lookin' mug by the sink."

She poured them coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. "I don't drink much coffee now, although I used to. I've stopped drinking alcohol and smoking and I don't take asprin, nothing that would hurt the baby."

"I don't know how anyone had normal babies before we found out about all the things we were doing to mess them up. How's your cholesterol?" he asked, as he sat a plate of bacon, eggs, biscuits, gravy and sliced tomatoes down in front of her.

"I've never had any problem with it. Good grief, I'll never eat all this!" she told him, staring in consternation at the mound of food he had given her.

"Well, give it your best shot, you need it," he said, attacking his own plate with relish. She did as he suggested, and before she knew it most of the plate was clean. She sat back and sighed contentedly, holding her stomach.

"I couldn't eat another bite, but that sure was delicious. Is that a typical southern breakfast?"

"Pretty much. I don't use lard or bacon grease for the gravy, but otherwise it's pretty typical."

"It's a wonder you aren't fat, eating like that all the time."

"We work it off. You don't look like you have to worry about getting fat either."

"Well, I haven't always been as thin as I am now. I was pretty sick when I first got pregnant, and I lost weight instead of gaining. I've been trying to make myself eat right, for the baby's sake, but I just haven't been very hungry."

"I can understand why." he said, reaching under the table and taking a newspaper from the chair beside him. He laid it down in front of her. "That's yesterday's paper. I would guess that life has been a little hard on you the last few months."

She gasped and covered her mouth, all color draining from her face "Oh my God, I didn't think they would do this to me." She looked up at him, her eyes wide and frightened. "They've probably put this picture in every newspaper across the country. I bet it's even on TV. Jake, what am I going to do?"

He studied her for a moment, the pallor of her cheeks making him wish he had not been so abrupt in his revelation.

"The way I see it you have two choices. You can turn yourself in to the FBI, and trust them to protect you through the trial and then put you in a witness protection program, or, and this is what I think you should do, you can stay here."

"Stay here? Are you crazy? Do you know how much trouble that would be for you and Edward? Oh, I bet he just loved that idea. He doesn't like me to start with!"

"Don't you worry about Edward, he'll come around. OK then, if you don't want to stay here, will you go back and testify?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't even get into the courthouse. I'd be shot down in the street, and there would be nothing the police or the FBI could do to stop it. James would see to that."

"Is he your baby's daddy?"

"Yes."

"Does he know you're pregnant with his child?"

"Yes."

"And he'd kill you, knowing he'd be killin' his own child?"

"That wouldn't even slow him down."

"How did a sweet girl like you ever get mixed up with someone like that?"

She hesitated. She had never wanted anything as much as she wanted to just break down and let it out, all the misery and bad choices and abuse, but the habit of keeping in was too deeply ingrained.

"It's a long, sad story, and I'm not a sweet girl. I'm not sure I ever was. I wouldn't want you to think I am something I'm not." She stared down into her coffee cup, unable to meet his eyes. "If you knew some of the things I've done you would look at me a lot differently. Probably like Edward looks at me. I don't deserve your help, Jake, and you don't deserve the trouble my being here would cause."

"I'm not gonna argue the point, because I can see that you have your mind made up about yourself, but what about that baby? What will happen to it, if its mama gets killed? Maybe its daddy doesn't care, but I know you do. What were you gonna do, where were you headed when you crashed here?"

"I have a friend, Rose, in Virginia, and I was going to stay with her until the baby was born, and then she was going to take care of it for me while I went back to Miami and..." she stopped, unable to tell this dear old man that she was planning a murder. Was it really murder? She didn't know, but it was necessary.

"And, what?" he prompted.

"It doesn't matter...it was a bad idea, actually. James doesn't know about her, but he would have eventually found me anyway. I just didn't know where else to turn. It doesn't matter where I go, he'll find me. I'm sure somebody spotted my plane, they'll start asking questions, and investigating, and that's all it will take. James will be watching out for something just like that."

"Nobody saw you go down, or we would have heard about it by now. What about the transponder from the plane?"

She shook her head. "I disabled that when I stole it."

"Then, there is no way he can find you if you stay with us. You can just lay low until we can arrange a story to explain why you're here. We can disguise you so that no one will recognize you."

She narrowed her eyes and studied him thoughtfully, taking in his worn flannel shirt and jeans, the leathery skin on his neck and the dark eyes that appeared to hold nothing but warm concern.

"Why, Jake? Why do you want to help me, what's in it for you?" she asked finally, leaning back to ease the pressure on her stomach. "If there is one thing I've learned, it's that nobody does anything unless there's something in it for them."

He sighed and stood, picking up their plates to carry them to the sink. He said nothing for several moments, and she thought he had forgotten the question, or was refusing to answer. He scraped their plates, rinsed them, and then stood with his back to her, gazing out the window over the sink. Finally he spoke, and it seemed he had changed the subject at first.

"When Leah and I came here, we had nothin'. We lived pretty much hand to mouth for several years, and every time it seemed like we were about to see light at the end of the tunnel, somethin' would happen, a fire, a flood, a tornado, somethin'. I fell one time, off the roof of the barn, and damn near killed myself. I was laid up for weeks. But every time there was trouble, there was always someone there to help. Neighbors to help with the chores, rebuildin' the house and barn, cleanin' up after a flood. This is a community where people help each other. They don't give it a second thought, they just do it. Leah and I promised each other we would never turn down someone in need, if we had the means to help, and neither of us ever went back on that promise."

He turned to face her. "I don't think I like the world you come from. It seems like a dark, lonely place. That isn't how we live here. The only thing I would get out of helpin' you is the satisfaction of knowin' I was doing somethin' that Leah would be smilin' down at me for." He dried his hands on a dish towel and rolled down his sleeves. "I can't make you accept my help, but it's there if you want it. I have chores to do, so I'll get to them. You can let me know when I get back what you want to do."

She bowed her head and did not speak as he left the house. She felt she had offended him, and that bothered her. Then it made her mad. Who the hell did he think he was? She didn't know him from Adam, how was she supposed to know what motivated him? Trust was not something that came easily to her, if at all, and although so far she had no reason not to trust him, and his friend, one just never could tell, could one? Nothing in her life had prepared her for believing in selflessness. They might be serial killers for all she knew.

The baby kicked and she rose to give him/her more room as well as relieve some of the pressure on her own insides. That was more food than she had eaten at one sitting in a long time, it would take a while to digest. Seeking an outlet for the pent up energy that getting angry always gave her, she decided to wash the dishes. She looked under the sink and found the soap, and although it took a while one-handed, finally the plates and pans were soaking in hot bubbly water. She had a tendency to bang things around and mutter to herself when she was frustrated, and there was considerable banging and muttering going on in the neat, homey kitchen.

"If you break those dishes Jake will just go out and get some more," a deep voice said, startling her into dropping the skillet she was about to set on the stove to dry. It landed on her toe.

"Shit! Oh, oh, oh, oh!" she cursed, hopping clumsily toward the chair. Falling into it, she tried to raise the injured foot to rub away the pain, but the splint holding her arm, in combination with her swollen stomach, rendered her feet inaccessible to her attentions.

Taking pity on her, Edward knelt and gently massaged the injured toe. She sucked in her bottom lip and held it between her teeth as the pain peaked and then gradually started to fade.

"Is that better?" he asked, looking up and into her eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat and she could not breathe for an endless second. She had heard of time standing still, but she had never experienced it. Now, looking into his brilliant green eyes, she felt suspended, removed from reality. Something fundamental and powerful passed between them; she knew he felt it, too, and wondered if, like her, he had no idea what it was or how to deal with it.

It was not just that he was what her friend Rose would refer to as a hunk, with his bronze hair and green eyes fringed with dark lashes, his square jaw and beautifully shaped mouth. All that was a pretty picture, but there was more to him, a sense of vulnerability and need that struck a chord somewhere deep inside her, that called out to her to fill the need. She sat staring at him, her eyes wide, her foot almost forgotten. This was hardly her usual reaction to anyone, much less a man like this, who, despite his limp, did not look as though he needed anyone's help.

Edward felt a sudden urge to protect her flood over him as though that was what he had been put here to do. It frightened him and he almost dropped her foot in his haste to turn away, to escape the void he felt himself falling into. He never wanted to be involved again, it only brought trouble and hurt too much.

He didn't want to notice that her eyes were the color of the sky at night, and just as endlessly deep, or that her skin was the color of heavy cream with a faint sprinkling of cinnamon across her small, neat nose, or the blush of rose on her cheeks, or how her thick, dark auburn hair framed her face, lending her an innocent, untouched, little girl look. She was pregnant with James Fontana's baby, damn it to hell, she could hardly be innocent. He would ignore how her white teeth caught her lush bottom lip and how very inviting it was.

He shook his head involuntarily. No, no, there was no way she could possibly be what it felt like she was, the other half of him, the part that would make him whole. He stood quickly and went to the coffee pot, ignoring also how his hand shook as he reached for a cup.

She watched him, trying to understand what had just happened between them, not liking it anymore than he did. Her only thought was of escape, she would get away from him and the uncomfortable feelings he generated. She struggled to her feet and limped toward the bedroom.

"Wait." His voice was soft, but stopped her like running into a wall. "Are you staying?"

"Jake asked me to, but I don't think I should." She turned to face him. He was not looking at her. "You don't either, do you?" she asked him, unsure of why it mattered, but intensely sure that it did.

He shrugged. "If Jake thinks you should, then you should," he answered noncommittally, sipping his coffee. She studied him, seeing through his casual demeanor. He didn't like her at all, in fact, he viewed her with contempt. She remembered how he had reacted to touching her, with disgust. He had hardly been able drop her foot fast enough. She desperately wanted to be angry so she could defend herself, but the overwhelming emotion that enveloped her was sadness.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, she retreated to her bedroom where she lay down and sought sweet oblivion in sleep.

She was able to find only a couple of hours of unconsciousness, and then she was awake again. She lay on her side facing the window, her arm, her face, and now her foot, all aching, thinking that her body was sort of representative of the mess her life was in. Broken, sliced and bruised. A single tear slid onto the pillow under her head. That was it, that was all she would allow.

"Edward tells me you hurt your toe." Jake said, when he came to check on her later, stirring her from dark thoughts. He brought with him a bag of first aid paraphernalia.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." she told him, more than a little embarrassed by the incident. She wondered what Edward said.

"Well, let me look at it, and I need to change the bandage on your face too. Then we'll have lunch. Sit up and lean back against the head board so I can get to it." he directed. She bore his attentions in silence, only the pallor of her cheeks revealing her pain. She felt awful, not only physically, but mentally as well. Wanting to apologize to Jake for her doubts, yet angry at him for not understanding, she said nothing.

After removing the gauze and tape from her face he gently anointed the slice that ran from her ear to her chin with a soothing ointment. When the bandage was back on that, he pulled a chair over and sat down, patting his knee to indicate that he wanted her to put her foot on it. She did so, and he tsk, tsked over the size and color of her big toe.

"You should have had some ice on this right away. I can't imagine why Edward didn't see to that. You lay still and I'll bring you some. Lunch too."

"Oh no, you're done waiting on me hand and foot. I'll come in there."

"But your foot.." he tried to protest. Her stony look told him she meant it, and he went off, grumbling about a house full of stubborn people, and nobody listening to an old man. She smiled, suddenly feeling forgiven. Somehow, without saying a word, he had conveyed that he did understand, that it was all right, and they would talk about it later.

She was still smiling when she limped into the kitchen a few minutes later. She found Jake making sandwiches. To the surprise of both of them, she went right over and kissed him on the portion of weathered cheek not covered by hair. He got all flustered and adorable, dropped the bread in the sink and a slice of ham on the floor. She giggled, but took pity on him and retreated to sit at the table. He hurried about, finishing lunch and fixing a pan of ice water, which he brought over to sit beside her chair. He handed her a towel.

"Just keep your foot in there while you eat lunch and you'll be amazed at how much the swelling will go down." he assured her.

"Jake, you are going to have me so spoiled I won't be able to stand myself."

"I can't see that happening, I think you'd be pretty hard to spoil."

She was about to reply when the front door opened and Edward came in. He flipped his stained and battered cap onto the rack by the door and started toward the bathroom rolling up his sleeves as he went. He stopped when he saw her, and her smile faded.

"Edward would you pour the juice after you wash up?" Jake asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Edward tore his eyes away from hers and glanced at Jake, nodded and headed for the bathroom.

"I'm not hungry Jake, I think I'll go lay back down for awhile." She tried to stand, needing to escape, knowing she could not sit at the table and calmly eat a meal with those green eyes.

"Wait a minute there girl, you can't go runnin' off every time he comes around. Give it a chance, he's not so bad."

"It's not that... well, OK, it is that, partly, but I really don't feel so good."

"Here, let me help you." Jake took her arm and they started for the bedroom, but Edward came back in before she could get away. Suddenly a muscle spasm lanced through her lower stomach and down her inner thighs, causing her to forget the uncomfortable situation. She gasped and clutched her middle as the twinge went from being unpleasant to painful and then faded, leaving her bent over, sweating and breathing hard. Jake helped her sit back down at the table. She looked up at him with big scared eyes.

"What was that? Is the baby coming?" She asked, rubbing her stomach to quell the aftershocks.

"No, it's not time yet. That was what the womenfolk around here call, 'the flyin' miseries'. You'll get those pretty regular 'til the baby comes. It's just everythin' gettin' ready, nothing to worry about."

"Aptly named," she observed, pushing back thick tendrils of damp hair that clung to her forehead.

Edward handed her a glass of juice and she murmured her thanks before drinking thirstily. He offered her a sandwich and she took one, glancing up at him from under thick lashes.

"When's the baby due?" he asked, meeting her eyes without thinking, and again there was that moment of frozen time. Jake cleared his throat, breaking the spell. They both glanced in his direction and wondered at the smile he wore.

"I, what, oh, the baby's due in about three weeks," she finally stammered out, in answer to his question.

"Isabella," Jake began, stopping when she put her hand on his arm.

"You may as well call me Bella, that's what my...friends call me." He and Edward pretended not to notice the hesitance in her reference to friends.

"Bella," he began again, "if you're going to stay, we need to find a way to explain you being here, and we're going to have to change your looks enough so no one will see your picture and recognize you."

Jake plucked a sandwich from the stack, munching it thoughtfully. Bella and Edward waited, glad for the distraction.

"I've given it a lot of thought and I came up with a plan. How about I spread the word that a relative of my Leah's from Washington is coming to stay with us. Your husband just died, and you've come down here to have your baby and get a fresh start away from memories and such. You can ride into Atlanta in the back of the panel truck, nobody will see you, and while we're there we'll pick up some hair dye and glasses. Then, on the way back you can ride up front where everyone can see you, and ask all their questions and get it over with. We'll stop in town and make sure you meet the right..."

He noticed a funny look on her face and paused. "You don't like it?"

"Why did you pick Washington?"

"That's where our people are from, mine and Leah's. Most folks around here know that. Is somethin' wrong with sayin' you're from Washington?"

"No, it's just...I am. That's where I was born."

"How 'bout that!" he said, slapping his knee. "See, this was meant to be! OK now, we need to hurry and do this, 'cause you won't want to be travelin' for much longer. I say we leave tomorrow about 12:30. We shouldn't get caught in any traffic jams that way.

He turned to Edward. "What do you think? Could we be ready to spend the night in Atlanta tomorrow?"

"You want me to go? What for? Who'll look after the place?"

"We might need you, and Fred would be glad to take care of things for us. He'll only need to do mornin' chores."

He was giving Edward an odd, pointed look, and Edward was looking uncomfortable.

"Why do we need to go all the way into Atlanta?"

There was that look, again. "We need some things we can only get in Atlanta."

This elicited a frown from Edward that had Bella determined to put a stop to the entire idea.

"Wait a minute," she said, holding up her hand, "don't I get a say in this?"

"Well, sure you do, what's your idea?" Jake asked, waiting expectantly.

"I don't have one," she admitted, "but, I don't want Edward to go."

"Nonsense, it'll do him good."

She looked at Edward. "Is he always like this?"

He nodded.

"Do you ever win an argument with him?"

"Not often."

"I didn't mean that I didn't want you to go, by the way, I meant I didn't want you to go since you didn't want to," she tried to explain, carefully avoiding his eyes.

"The point is moot," he told her, "the boss has spoken."

"Well," Jake said, grinning at them, "that's all settled then. Let's get back to work Edward. Bella, you rest, and you're welcome to our library. Sorry we don't have a TV."

"Books will do nicely. Like I told Edward last night, I love to read, but I don't get the chance very often."

"You don't mind missing the soap operas?" Jake asked.

She shook her head. "No way! As a matter of fact, if you wanted to torture me, making me watch those would be a most effective method."

"Sounds like you've been living a soap opera." Edward blurted without thinking.

She turned her clear, dark eyes on him. "Not because I wanted it that way, I assure you. Excuse me." Levering herself to her feet she left the room.

When she had gone, Edward groaned slightly. "I didn't mean to say that, it just came out."

"Yeah, I know." Jake said, handing Edward the plate of sandwiches to cover. "Leah could do that to me, too."

Edward put the sandwiches in the frig. "Do what?"

"Make me shrivel up with her eyes like that."

Edward leaned against the refrigerator, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you blathering about old man?"

"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about, and you'd better watch that 'old man' stuff." He finished wiping the table and they headed for the door, still arguing.

"What are you insinuating?"

"I ain't insinuatin' nothin'. You just stuck that size 12 foot in your mouth and she called you on it, that's all."

"Well, she isn't anything like Leah, and I sure as hell am nothing like you!"

"Have it your way, son." Jake capitulated, grinning. Edward looked at him suspiciously. That was far too easy. Jake just kept grinning and went off to work, leaving Edward with the feeling that he had lost another argument.


End file.
